


Masquerading as a Man with a Reason

by uhmyeah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dogs, Driving, Gen, Music as a metaphor, No Smut, Prayer, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27641149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uhmyeah/pseuds/uhmyeah
Summary: i feel a lot of emotions about the series finale so i rewrote it. maybe its a finale maybe it isn't but its certainly better than what we got (imo). anyways its my first spn fic maybe ever, at least in seven years. basically, dean gets sad while driving and thinks of cas. does he come back? who knows!





	Masquerading as a Man with a Reason

It isn’t so much that they didn’t expect it, more that they didn’t know they could have it. Since Chuck is no longer on their radar, the bunker has been strangely quiet. There is a much clearer air, filled with easy breathing and the smells of a brighter future, one where the boys lived until they grew gray and only ever kept up the family business on rare occasions. Nothing was actively killing them or wanting them dead; everything was…good. The dog that Chuck evaporated was back, living and barking happily from its bed at the foot of Dean’s bed, eating leftovers and licking up the messes on the plates when one of the boys didn’t want to do the dishes. It felt like home, strangely enough, or at least what Dean remembered home feeling like; before all the demons and deaths, before all the chaos that thrummed in their veins, there was this-home, belonging, togetherness. Family.

When Dean awoke, he could smell fresh bacon being cooked before he heard the crackle of the grease. Sam always woke up early for his jogs, then came home and caught a quick shower before making enough breakfast for the three of them. Well, two and a dog. Dean got out of bed and stretched out, popping well used joints in his back. Patting his legs, he called for the dog to follow, “C’mon, Adam, good boy. Let’s go get some food!”. The dog jumped down and wagged his tail, trampling out the door.

The smell of breakfast was other worldly; something that Sam put in the eggs always smelled so good, so delicious that someone who never ate would be left drooling. As Dean walked in, the toast popped up. Since Sam was in charge of the cooking, Dean tried to set the table as best he could; he’d get out their two plates and sets of cutlery, then leave an extra plate and set out just in case someone came to visit, just out of habit. No one ever came, but contrarily to what most believe, Mary Winchester did not raise a man without manners, nor one that had no knowledge on how to treat guests. So just in case, he always left out a plate and cutlery. He also fed Adam, filling his bowl up with hard kibble and just a little bit of bacon grease on the top for extra flavor; he knows it probably isn’t healthy, but he wants Adam to feel included, so he adds it (much to Sam’s chagrin). It feels right, it feels light. It feels weird.

As they sit and talk over breakfast and coffee, a few hours pass. It isn’t like they really _have_ to go do anything, mostly they just hunt in the rare instances something weird pops up on the radar. It makes them feel invincible, in a way; having defeated Chuck, _God_ , they don’t have to worry about almost anything anymore. They could have, and should have, died. Many times. But they didn’t; they always came back, always found each other again. And now that they are both alive, both breathing and mostly unscathed, its strange; its almost like their purpose is gone but in the best way possible. They can just live now; they can love and meet people and not have to dread the confession that they are very likely to just up and leave for the sake of something their partner could never understand or fathom as real. They never have to lose a loved one because of a monster again.

The day progresses and morning turns into afternoon, Dean sits with his feet propped on the table and a beer in hand as he searches for anything at all to get them on the road again. He takes a long swig and winces slightly as he swallows, breathing out a heavy breath and shutting his laptop. He hears the faint sound of a vacuum, which can only mean that Sam is cleaning somewhere, but its silent otherwise; he is left to only his brain, his thoughts. What a scary place to be.

Leaning his head back, Dean remembers just a few days ago, back when Billie was in the bunker trying to kill him. Back when Cas was still around. It had only been a few days, maybe a week or so, but it felt like centuries. Never in a million years would Dean have expected Cas to leave-to die- with a love confession, much less one that was aimed at Dean. They had danced around each other since their cataclysm, and now Dean has a hunter green shirt with a bloody handprint to match the one on his skin. _I love you, Dean_ echoes in his brain, bouncing off the walls, filling in the spaces where Sam, killing, and how to drive don’t take up, filling over everything else. He realizes the bunker’s silence is eerie not because of silence, but because Cas isn’t there filling it up; his words aren’t there, his presence isn’t there. It’s all…empty. The only things left are his name etched into the table and his trench coat hanging abandoned on the coat rack in the main room. Dean traces over Castiel’s etching with a sad smile before taking a long swig of beer. Sam walks in, laptop in hand, sitting down across from Dean.

“Hey. Find anything?”

“Nah. Nothing. Maybe you can? I don’t care where, we gotta get out, I gotta drive somewhere, man.”

Sam laughs, opening the laptop.

“Yeah. Maybe we don’t do a hunt? Just, I don’t know, find somewhere cool to see. Be a tourist. I don’t know. Maybe it would do us both some good.”

“Whatever, I’m just going stir crazy and I can’t take another second here.”

“Me neither, how’s this sound? There’s been these murders, uh, the victims don’t have any fingers? Jody emailed me info. It also looks like animal attacks, but we know how those go, and what animal takes fingers?”

“Gross. Let’s do it. I’m always down to see Jody; you packed?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

They both get up and go to their rooms, grabbing their duffle bags and leaving. Dean makes a double take as he exits, grabbing Cas’ coat and leaving, shoving it in his duffle before shutting the lights off as he leaves the bunker. The dog hops in the backseat as Dean puts their stuff in the trunk, making sure they have the necessary weaponry for whatever they might face. As Dean gets in and cranks the engine, a cassette starts playing a long list of classic rock that Dean made when he was 12. It makes them both smile, the memory of so long ago comforting and only a little melancholic. It’s them against the world, but it’s their world now.

They drive for a long time, flying down the interstate through cities and states they’ve been to and through a million times before. The cassette is still playing despite it being close to midnight, Sam is asleep against the window and Adam is laying down in the backseat. Dean powers forward, admiring the night sky over prairies and deserts, rocky mountains and flat plains. He’s in his head again, but he always is when he drives; something so alluring, so seductive, about driving when you can be alone with your thoughts. It has always been like that, ever since Dean first learned to drive, it was his escape. He would drive hours away at the mere idea of John coming in the front door again; even though he loved his father, he can’t say that he was altogether a good one, and he doesn’t have to. Still, he lies to himself and will defend John till the day he dies, but it’s complicated. Love is always complicated. The song ends, and _Dust in the Wind_ by Kansas starts up, shocking Dean out of his father’s trance and into a new one, into a fresher one.

_I close my eyes only for a moment and the moment’s gone_

_All my dreams pass before my eyes with curiosity_

Dean doesn’t remember adding this song to the mixtape, didn’t even know he knew the song when he made it, but he’s glad it’s there. His eyes do shut for a moment, relishing in the warmth of his chest, in the memories that this trance serves, but when he opens them, they’re gone. He thinks of Cas, he thinks of everything they have gone through and seen, together, how nothing even matters without Cas there; it’s a bold statement but a true one nonetheless-Cas, despite his aloof personality and common issue of being a bit of a pain in the ass, he was everything. He was the first angel that didn’t want the Winchesters dead, he was the first angel that Dean trusted with his whole heart and soul; there was never an instance where Dean was ever truly upset with Cas. It felt awful, because he would be pissed off with no hope of being reconciled, he’d want to kill Cas, but he could never go through with it. He was never truly mad; every instance of anger, of annoyance, was all masked by the unfortunate truth that deep down, Cas was so much more than his friend, than their equal. He was _Cas_.

_All they are is dust in the wind._

_Same old song; just a drop of water in an endless sea._

Damn, Dean thinks; he wonders if his childhood self even listened to the lyrics. Probably not. But now, as an adult who has died and come back too many times, loved and lost more than that, the lyrics are different. He ponders the reality of things, the reality of Cas’ death, the necessity to maintain a family business that has tormented him and everyone and everything he has ever loved for his whole life. But he always does. He’s always questioning things, always hoping for another way out. Always wishing that he can wake up already, wake up and go downstairs to see Mary preparing dinner, Sam playing with his baby toys, himself in train pajamas and mismatched socks. For John to walk in with groceries and shut the door with his foot, setting the bags down and wrapping Mary up in a hug from behind. Always hoping for the reality he never had, and he guesses he never could have had. It’s the same as it always is, same old song, same swan song. His whole life, all he has ever wanted is to make John proud, to maintain this idea that he had, knowing damn well that he’s killing himself in keeping it up. All he has ever wanted is to be the son that they both wanted, but he knows that that’s hard wishing, even in a world that isn’t dictated by a dick God. Instead, all he has ever done with his whole life is bring people into a line of work that kills them or kills him first and leaves them devastated. He’s small, such a small fragment in such a big world, yet it seems like he brings more destruction than good. The dark, pained side of his mind brings forth the fact that, in a way, he ruined the life of the one person he can never hurt-Sam. He took his dream of normality and crushed it in a blender, no thought or care for what Sam said, just that Dad was missing and he couldn’t stand the fact that the man who had hurt him, who raised him so badly, was gone. He couldn’t say goodbye.

Dean realizes, in that moment, that he has lived his whole life trying to please others. Never once has he lived for himself. The closest he came was when he was with Lisa and Ben, but even then, he was plagued with the hope that something would come up and he would leave. He can’t stand being happy, he thinks darkly, he can’t fathom the idea of domesticity or joy without pain. His whole concept of love is skewed anyways; his mother died when he was a kid and his dad died later on, and he raised Dean and Sam as best he could, but it was, inevitably, just not enough. And as he grew up, as he noticed how he fathered Ben, he realized that his father wasn’t perfect; he was far from. It’s an idea Dean still struggles with, still refuses to admit is true no matter how much Sam agrees or how much his brain reminds him; John Winchester was a good father, considering, and that is what Dean has to believe. Without that, everything he has ever done, everything he has ever said, is for nothing. Then again, those things are pointless now, now that Jack is God, now that Chuck is powerless. Everything he has ever done, everything he has ever said, everything he has ever believed, everything he has ever been is just a drop in an endless sea. Nothing matters now that there’s nothing to fight for, and that’s a realization Dean hoped he’d never have. For the first time, he doesn’t have a purpose.

Dean pulls off the road into a hotel parking lot somewhere in Nebraska. He wakes Sam up, jostling his shoulder, then reaches back and pets Adam’s head.

“Hey. Where are we?” Sam slurs, waking up.

“Somewhere in Nebraska. I got too tired to drive much more, hope this is good enough”

“Yeah, yeah, this is fine. Have you gotten a room? Can Adam stay here or is he in the car?”

“Adam comes in. And yeah, room 208.”

“Okay, meet you in there. I’m gonna let Adam walk for a bit, I’ll be in in a minute”

They exit the car and Dean heads up the wooden stairs. He finds the room and unlocks the door, throwing his duffle in the chair by the door, not bothering to cut on any lights, and falls face first into one of the beds. It’s been a long night. He flips over onto his back and rubs his face, sitting up and shuffling to his bag to get clothes, then into the bathroom. Dean takes a long, hard look at himself in the dusty mirror and cuts on the sink, splashing his face with cold water. He changes into different clothes-red plaid pajama pants and an old white t shirt. He takes another glance at himself before flipping off the switch and walking out, climbing into bed again. It’s chilly in the room but its comfortable; his skin too hot for comfort after all the thinking he’s done tonight. Sam walks in and flips on the light by the other bed, sitting down and stretching his back. Adam hops up on Dean’s bed and cuddles up against him.

“Hey buddy. You sleepy now?” Dean asks, rubbing the fur on Adam’s head gently. Adam whines in response, laying his head on the bed beside Dean.

“I think he is; he chased a squirrel or something for a little bit, went to the bathroom. He had a really eventful night.” Sam says before yawning.

“Did you now? Good boy. Hunting just like us, eh? Gonna take over the family business?” And its bittersweet, Sam laughing tiredly as he treads to the bathroom.

Once he’s out of ear shot, Dean continues.

“You don’t have to. You’re just a pup, I don’t expect you to. Just so you know. I’d never force you into it, or anything like it. I’ve done that once and I’ll never do it again. It kills, Adam. I’m a killer,” Dean sighs, rubbing Adam’s body. Adam yawns. “I’d never kill you, though. You’re too sweet, yes you are.”

Dean stretches his back one last time, shutting his eyes. Sam walks to his bed and lays down.

“Night, Dean. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Night, Sammy.”

Sam cuts off the light, and they fall asleep.

The next morning, it’s raining. They’ve got about two hundred more miles before reaching Sioux Falls, only a few hours drive. They stop for breakfast at a little diner on the way up, eating inside and leaving Adam to sleep in the car. They eat slowly, not really wanting to take the case but not mentioning it. They leave and Dean leaves a nice tip for the waitress. They get back in the Impala and drive. This time, it’s a bit heavier in the air, tense, like there’s an unspoken issue. There is. Dean decided somewhere between sleep and being awake that he was tired. Just, tired.

“Hey, is everything okay? You seem tense,” Sam says.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I didn’t sleep great, that’s probably what’s up. Don’t worry about it.”

Sam doesn’t buy it, furrowing his eyebrows, but not pushing it. He knows better. He lets Dean drive, not saying a word about anything relating to the issue. He thinks it’s probably for the better, no matter how much he believes talking would help Dean. He knows Dean can’t open up, never has been able to, and that’s okay. It’ll kill him, but it has to be okay.

Somewhere near the border of Nebraska and South Dakota, Jody calls Sam.

“Jody? Is everything okay?” Sam asks, picking up the phone.

“…Oh. Alright, uh. Yeah, no, that’s great. We’re actually super close now, probably about a half an hour away, is it cool if we crash with you for a bit? Not too long, y’know-yeah, okay. Cool, see you then” Sam hangs up.

Dean looks over at Sam.

“Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah-“ Sam begins, “Jody said she got them. We don’t have to worry about the case, uh, her and Claire killed them.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, uh, she said that they found a lead and they took it. I don’t know why they didn’t wait for us, but hey, that’s fine, right? She said we can still crash with her, so”

“Yeah, no, that’s great,” Dean starts, “That’s really great.”

Dean drives for the remaining little while to Jody’s home. He parks and lets Adam out, watching him run up to Jody to sniff her before going and running in her yard. She comes over and hugs Dean, then Sam, asking how they are and inviting them in. They sit and chat over tiny sandwiches and beers, laughing and having a good time. Adam is asleep on the rug by the front door. It feels normal, Dean thinks. He briefly wishes this is a life he could have, one with a dog and maybe even a kid, one with an added spouse, or at least partner. A domestic life. He knows he wouldn’t really fit the type, doesn’t really have the knowledge or qualifications for the white picket fence and spotless driveway, but this…he can do, maybe. A little cabin out in the middle of nowhere, but its cozy and nice, welcoming. Not too far from civilization but not in a suburban neighborhood. He smiles, admiring the thought.

They stay with Jody for a couple days before heading back to Kansas. The drive back is a lot lighter; Sam and Dean laugh and joke like they did before the world ended a few times, back before they died and came back more times. They get back to the bunker and let Adam in first, watching him bound down the stairs and stretch out before hopping up onto one of the wooden chairs. Dean walks down the stairs slower, behind Sam, and stops at the bottom.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to my room, might sleep for a bit.”

“Yeah, cool. I might go for a jog or something. Sleep well, call me if anything happens”

“Yeah, same for you. Take Adam? He would love the run, I think”

“Yeah, great idea,” Sam begins, crouching down, “Adam, you wanna go out? Wanna come on my run?”

Adam barks and twirls around, following Sam to his room and then up the stairs. Dean goes to his room and begins unpacking his bag, putting his clothes up and laying out the other stuff on his desk. He takes a deep breath and unpacks Cas’ coat, hanging it on the back of his door. He looks up at it with a sad smile, going to his bed and laying down. His brain is empty, nothing clogging the pathways except a fleeting thought of Cas. He starts to pray.

“Hey, man. I don’t know if you can even hear me, if that’s even a thing anymore. I dunno how the Empty works but it doesn’t sound great and if its anything like it is here since you’ve been gone, it isn’t. I just wanted to say, uh. We miss you, me and Sam. It’s uh, its pretty lonely without you and Jack here making a mess of things. You were-are-pretty cool, man. It’s weird not having you around. I’ve dealt with death before, you of all know that, but this doesn’t feel the same; it feels wrong, in a way, but at the same time it feels right. I know you did it to save me. I uh,” Dean takes a breath, shutting his eyes, “I remember what you told me. At first, I didn’t know how to take it. Love is weird for me; I think you know that. I, uh, I wish you were still around. I want you to know, I hope you can hear this, I want you to know that we love you too. We do. You’re such a good guy, Cas, and we mi- “Dean stops, rubbing his eyes, “No, y’know what? No. _I_ miss you. I kept your stupid coat. _I_ wish you were here, just for a little bit, just long enough to hear me, really hear me…You’ve gotta know, Cas. You have to. I don’t want to say it, I _can’t_ say it; the only ones I’ve ever told it to have died or been messed up bad, I can’t let that happen to you. But I did, I let you die, I'm sorry, Cas. I'm really sorry. You did the right thing, though. You did the right thing. You saved the world. You did more in that moment than me and Sam have done in our lives. You saved the whole world, Cas. Thank you, for that and for everything. No one ever told you enough, me included. You deserve to know. You deserved to know.”

Dean pauses, calculating his next words carefully.

“I think…I should have done a better job. For everything. For everyone. I shouldn’t have gotten Sam from college, I shouldn’t have gone back to Lisa and Ben, I should have been kinder to you and Jack and just about everyone in my life. I’m too stubborn and impatient and I love when I shouldn’t, I talk when I shouldn’t. I kill, Cas, I have killed so much in my life…that’s such a heavy burden to wear. I’m selfish, and ruthless, and I wish I could be half as brave and intelligent and strong as Sam is but I’m not, I’m just not, and I never have been. I dragged him into this mess, away from a normal life, a girl, a dog…and now that’s all I want. For so long, all I wanted was to make Dad proud, then mom, then dad again, and then Sam and then Chuck then Sam and then you, God, I wanted to make you proud so bad. All I’ve done is kill people, though. And hurt them. I know you said I’m brave and I’m more than just a killer but Cas, man, you can’t be serious. I literally kill for a living,” Dean laughs dryly, “I just want it to make sense. It doesn’t feel right anymore. If you’re hearing me, give me a sign or something that I’m doing the right thing…please, Cas.” Dean sighs. He thinks back to the Kansas lyrics,

_All we do crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see._

He rolls over onto his side and shuts his eyes.

When Sam gets home, Dean is asleep. It’s past normal dinner time, so Sam whips up a quick grilled cheese and feeds Adam. Sam walks to his bedroom to change, passing by Dean’s cracked door and noticing the trench coat. He’s confused for a moment, brushing it off and continuing the path to his room. Maybe Dean is mourning, Sam doesn’t know, but he then walks to the bathroom for a quick shower and goes to bed himself. Adam sleeps in Dean’s room.

The next day, Dean wakes up to Adam licking his face. It makes him smile, patting his back and scratching his neck. Adam’s tail wags.

“Good morning to you too. Next time buy me dinner first,” Dean jokes. Adam barks happily. “You wanna go get food? I wonder what Sammy’s making, huh? Think it’s bacon?” Dean asks, motioning for Adam to follow.

They get to the kitchen to find Sam already eating, drinking his coffee. He’s talking to someone. Dean rubs his eyes and takes another glance. Adam barks.

“Cas?” Dean asks, incredulous.

Cas turns around, smiling.

“Hello, Dean.” He gets up and walks over to where Dean stands, shocked.

“How are you…I thought you died, like, _died_ died.”

“I should have. I don’t really know why I didn’t.”

“Well…” Dean smiles big, real, for the first time in a while, “come here, man. Come here.”

Dean pulls Cas into a hug, shutting his eyes in the embrace.

“I heard your prayer,” Cas whispers, “you don’t have to say anything. I know.”

Dean doesn’t feel real. This all seems too good to be true. He’s got Sam, Cas, Adam…he’s happy. He has everything he’s ever wanted-family. They separate, Dean grinning and sitting across from Cas. The three talk about things like nothing happened, just as happy and normal as it was before. It’s a breath of fresh air, having Cas back. They decide to go on a bit of a drive, just to the next town over, just for fun. Cas piles in the backseat with Adam, Sam and Dean in the front. They play from the old cassette and laugh about the questionable songs, Dean insisting that they’re classics and should be respected as such, but he laughs along with them. For the first time in such a long time, he feels good. He has everything.

Through the years, they continue living together for a while. Eventually, Sam runs into Eileen again and they rekindle their relationship, moving in together and having a kid. They have a cute house in the suburbs with the picket fence and too-perfect grass. Sam teaches the kid how to play sports, throwing balls in the yard on the weekends. Cas and Dean go over once a week for dinner on Sunday, gathering around their kitchen table and eating like a big happy family. Dean is happy for Sam, happy for Eileen, but so happy for their child; they get to live the life Sam and Dean never did-one of normalcy, of joy.

As for Dean and Cas, they stay in the bunker. They stick together, cleaning up the place and opening it up as a housing unit for any and all hunters who pass through or just need a place to stay. In a way, that is exactly what Dean wanted; sure, it isn’t the secluded cabin in who knows where, but it’s private enough and, most importantly, he’s happy. He found that he takes a lot of joy from helping others, and in doing that, he can finally live for himself. No longer is he upkeeping John’s vision, he is just making the world a better place. He takes breaks when he needs to, he relaxes when he needs to, he doesn’t overwork himself. If he does, if he slips into old habits, Cas is there to get him back in the right swing of things. Adam lives a long and happy life, getting a hunter’s funeral at the end.

As all things go, they must end. Sam and Dean die together during a hunt, Cas too, for good. Dean thinks about his life, all the things he’s seen, music he’s heard. The only line playing through his head, _now your life’s no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you._ All three bled out together, laughing rough and wet as they reminisce one last time. From there, Eileen and their son live long lives. Their story is not over, though.

Sam, Dean, and Cas all sit crammed into the Impala on the way back from eating dinner at a diner with Eileen and their son. They’re on their way to a bar, Bobby’s bar, for drinks before heading home. After drinks and socializing, they take the long way home, the scenic route, through the forest and over water so they can drive the interstate. In heaven, the roads are perfect, not a pothole in sight. Dean crams in the cassette and cranks it up loud, tapping to the beat. The windows are down, everything is perfect.

_Lay your weary head to rest,_

_Don’t you cry no more._


End file.
